Introduction

The path of D.O.O.M. (Defense & Ordnance for Otherworldly Munitions) Corp International Limited is not an easy one. I didn’t choose to create a bank, a bakery, or a barbershop. I chose to create something that, in the wrong hands, could threaten the very existence of humanity. This is not a toy, not a business for comfort or convenience—it’s a responsibility that weighs heavier than most can imagine.

Anything can go wrong—intentions can rot, people can be corrupted, and that includes me. The world is not a bright, welcoming place. It’s a brutal arena that kicks you harder the moment it senses you're already down. And yet, the paradox of life is strangely poetic: we’re all flawed, broken souls pointing fingers at each other’s sins just to distract from our own. It’s madness, really—because if judgment awaits us all, then none of our excuses will matter in the fire that follows.

But perhaps that’s what makes this mission worth it. Not to escape judgment, but to stare it in the face. To build something dangerous and still hold the line. Because if someone has to do it—someone has to guard the gate—then it might as well be someone who’s already walked through the dark and made peace with it.

This corporation isn't about power. It's about control. About making sure that if the world does burn, it won’t be because we were asleep at the wheel.

The Challenge

The very first challenge after the success of the corporation is an assassination attempt—and that’s the harsh truth. I can see the future clearly enough. When someone becomes dangerous, the instinct is to eliminate them before they become a real threat. But often, we mistake people for enemies—not because they are, but because our own weakness makes them feel threatening. If we were truly strong, truly secure in ourselves, we wouldn’t waste time fearing others. We’d focus on building, not tearing down.

And that’s only the beginning.

Another danger lies within: the man at the wheel losing his mind. When someone believes they’re invincible, they begin bending the world to their will. It rarely ends well. That illusion of invincibility is a poison—one that has toppled empires and burned civilizations. There must always be something, someone, to remind the man at the top that he is still mortal. That’s the irony of power—it isolates you from reality unless you're grounded by the truth.

No one is special. In the end, we are all buried the same way, eaten by the same worms. And those worms don’t care about nations, color, wealth, or power. They just eat.

But perhaps knowing this is our only advantage. The awareness of our impermanence, our frailty—that’s what can keep us sane. That’s what can keep D.O.O.M. from becoming what it was created to prevent.

Because once you stop believing in consequences, you become the consequence.

The Solution

How can the founder and CEO of D.O.O.M. keep his sanity?

That’s the question I ask myself every single night.

The more power you gain, the more you begin to resemble a god—at least in the eyes of others. But power itself isn’t the danger. The real danger lies in how you interpret that power. How you process it. You can wield immense influence, command entire systems, and still remain human—if you remember the frames.

Imagine a painting of a majestic landscape, with golden mountains and divine light, and in bold letters, it says: "I am God." It may be breathtaking, almost convincing. But anyone standing in the gallery can still see the frame. They know it's just a painting, hanging on a wall, created by someone else. The delusion belongs only to the paint on the canvas. The people outside the frame see the truth.

That’s the trap of unchecked power: you become the paint. You forget the frame. You start to believe the illusion, not realizing you're still hanging on a wall, surrounded by boundaries, created by forces you don’t control.

So what’s the solution?

Accountability.

Sanity can’t exist in a vacuum. The only way for someone like me to stay grounded is to build a system of checks, not just for the company—but for myself. I’ve surrounded myself with people who are not afraid to say “no.” People whose loyalty is not to me as a person, but to the mission, the principle, and the line that must never be crossed. A board with real power. A second-in-command whose job is to shut me down if I go too far. Advisors who don’t flatter, but challenge.

I’ve also built rituals of humility into my life. Not just meditation or silence, but active exposure to places and people untouched by D.O.O.M.’s reach. A child in a village who’s never heard my name reminds me that I am not the center of the world. That’s the frame. That’s the gallery.

Power can be held. Influence can be wielded. But only if you constantly remind yourself: you are not the painting. You are still a man. And even gods—at least the ones in stories—tend to fall.